On the Anger of God

We see those of the first rank shaken out, who, though they understand false things, yet do not find the truth, and, having despised earthly and fragile images, do not betake themselves to the worship of God, whom they do not know: but, marveling at the elements of the world, they venerate the sky, the earth, the sea, the sun, the moon, and the other stars. But their ignorance we have already refuted in the second book of the Divine Institutes. Of the second rank we say those fall who, though they perceive that there is one supreme God, are nevertheless ensnared by philosophers and caught by false arguments, and think otherwise about that unique majesty than truth requires; who either deny that God has any form, or suppose that He is moved by no emotion, because every emotion belongs to weakness, which has no place in God.

Of the third rank those are cast down who, though they know the ambassador of God and likewise the founder of the divine and immortal temple, yet either do not receive him, or receive him otherwise than faith demands: whom we have already in part refuted in the fourth book of the aforesaid work, and will refute more carefully afterward, when we begin to reply to all the sects which, while disputing, have lost the truth. Now, however, we shall argue against those who, having fallen from the second rank, think wrongly about the supreme God. For some say that He neither shows favor to anyone nor grows angry; but that He is secure and at rest, enjoying the blessings of His own immortality. Others remove anger but leave favor to God; for a nature excelling in supreme virtue ought, they say, to be beneficent as it is not maleficent. Thus all philosophers agree concerning anger; they disagree concerning favor.

But in order that the discourse may descend in order to the proposed subject, we must make and follow a division of this kind, since anger and favor are different and opposed things. Either anger must be attributed to God and favor taken away; or both must equally be taken away. Or anger must be removed and favor attributed; or both must be attributed. Nature can admit nothing beyond these alternatives, so that the truth which is sought must necessarily be found in one of these. Let us consider each in turn, so that both reason and order may lead us to the hiding-places of truth.

That first position no one has ever stated concerning God, that He only grows angry and is not moved by favor. For it is inconsistent with God that He should be endowed with a power of such a kind that He can harm and injure, yet is unable to benefit and do good. What reason, then, what hope of salvation is set before men, if God is only the author of evils? If that were so, that venerable majesty would be reduced, not to the power of a judge, who has the right to save and to free, but to the office of a torturer and executioner. But since we see that there are not only evils in human affairs but also goods, surely if God is the author of evils, there must be another who does the opposite of God and gives us goods. If there is such a one, by what name is he to be called? And why is he who does evil better known to us than he who does good?

But if nothing can exist apart from God, it is absurd and empty to suppose that divine power, than which nothing is greater, nothing better, can harm but cannot benefit. And therefore no one has arisen who dared to say this; because it has neither reason nor can it in any way be believed. Since this is agreed upon, let us pass on and seek the truth elsewhere.

What follows belongs to the school of Epicurus; just as anger is not in God, so neither is favor. For when Epicurus thought it foreign to God to do evil and to harm, which for the most part arises from the emotion of anger, he also took away from Him beneficence, because he saw it was a necessary consequence that if God has anger, He also has favor. And so, lest he concede a vice to Him, he also made Him devoid of virtue. From this, he says, God is blessed and incorrupt, because He takes care of nothing, and has no business Himself, nor renders any to another. God therefore is not God, if He is not moved, which is the property of a living being: nor does He do anything impossible to man, which is the property of God, if He has altogether no will, no action, no administration in short that is worthy of God.

And what greater, what more worthy administration can be assigned to God than the governance of the world, and above all of the human race, to which all earthly things are subject.

What blessedness therefore can there be in God, if He is always at rest and lies motionless in torpor? If He is deaf to those who pray, blind to those who worship? What is so worthy, so proper to God as providence? But if He cares for nothing, provides for nothing, He has lost all divinity. He therefore who takes away from God all His power and substance, what else does he say but that God does not exist at all? Finally, Marcus Tullius reports that it was said by Posidonius that Epicurus was of the opinion that there were no gods, but that what he said about the gods he said for the sake of warding off ill-will: and so that Epicurus left the gods in words but in actual fact abolished them, since he attributed to them no motion, no function. But if this is so: what could be more deceitful than he? Which ought to be foreign to a wise and serious man.

This man indeed, if he thought one thing and said another, what else is he to be called but a deceiver, double-tongued, wicked, and therefore foolish? But Epicurus was not so crafty as to say these things with the intent to deceive, since he also committed them to writing for eternal memory: but he erred through ignorance of the truth. For, led from the beginning by the plausibility of one opinion, he necessarily fell into what followed from it. For the first opinion was that anger does not befit God. When this seemed to him true and unassailable, he could not refuse the consequences, because once one emotion was cut away, necessity itself compelled him to take away the other emotions from God as well. Thus he who does not grow angry is certainly not moved by favor either, which is the opposite of anger: and if there is neither anger nor favor in Him, certainly neither fear, nor joy, nor grief, nor compassion. For there is one principle for all emotions, one stirring, which cannot befall God.

But if there is no emotion in God, because whatever is affected is weak; then there is no care for anything, no providence in Him. Thus far the disputation of the wise man proceeded; the rest that follows he kept silent: namely, that since there is no care in Him, no providence; therefore there is no thought of any kind, no sense in Him at all: from which it follows that He does not exist at all. Thus, having descended step by step, he stopped at the last step, because he now saw the precipice. But what does it profit to have kept silent and concealed the danger? Necessity compelled him to fall even against his will. For he said what he did not wish to say, because he arranged his argument in such a way that he necessarily arrived at what he was trying to avoid. You see therefore where the removal of anger and its taking away from God leads.

Finally, either no one believes this, or very few, and those indeed wicked and evil men, who hope for impunity for their sins. But if this too is found to be false, that there is neither anger nor favor in God, let us come to what has been placed in the third position.

The Stoics, and certain others, are thought to have held somewhat better views concerning the Divinity, in that they say grace is in God, but wrath is not. A most pleasing and popular argument: that this smallness of soul does not befall God, so that He should think Himself injured by anyone, He who cannot be injured; that that tranquil and holy majesty should be stirred up, disturbed, and driven to madness—which belongs to earthly frailty. For wrath, they say, is a commotion and perturbation of the mind, which is foreign to God. And if wrath does not befit even a man who is wise and grave (since, when it falls upon anyone's soul, it stirs up such great waves like a savage storm as to alter the composure of the mind, so that the eyes blaze, the mouth trembles, the tongue falters, the teeth gnash, and the face is stained by turns—now with a spreading flush, now with a whitening pallor): how much less does so foul a change befit God?

And if a man who holds command and power does wide harm through wrath, sheds blood, overthrows cities, destroys peoples, reduces provinces to desolation; how much more credible is it that God, who holds power over the entire human race and over the world itself, would have destroyed all things, had He been wrathful? Therefore so great and so destructive an evil ought to be absent from Him. And if wrath and agitation are absent from Him—because both are unseemly and harmful—and He does no evil to anyone, nothing else remains but that He be gentle, tranquil, gracious, beneficent, and a preserver. For only in this way will He be able to be called the common Father of all, and best and greatest, which the divine and heavenly nature requires.

For if among men it seems praiseworthy to benefit rather than to harm, to give life rather than to kill, to save rather than to destroy, and innocence is not undeservedly numbered among the virtues, and he who does these things is loved, preferred, and honored, celebrated with all blessings and prayers, and finally judged most like God on account of his merits and benefits; how much more is it fitting that God Himself, excelling in divine and perfect virtues and removed from all earthly stain, should deserve well of the entire human race through divine and heavenly benefits? These things are said speciously and popularly, and they entice many to belief: but those who hold these views do indeed approach the truth more nearly; yet they err in part, considering the nature of the matter too little. For if God is not wrathful toward the impious and unjust, neither does He love the pious and just. Therefore the error of those who remove both wrath and grace together is more consistent.

For in matters that are opposite, one must be moved either in both directions or in neither. Thus he who loves the good also hates the bad, and he who does not hate the bad does not love the good either: because to love the good comes from hatred of the bad, and to hate the bad descends from love of the good. There is no one who loves life without hatred of death, nor who seeks the light except one who flees the darkness. So closely are these things bound together by nature that one cannot exist without the other.

If some master having in his household a good slave and a bad one does not either hate both or treat both with benefits and honor—for if he does so, he is both unjust and foolish—but speaks kindly to the good one, adorns him, and sets him over his house and household and all his affairs; while he punishes the bad one with reproaches, beatings, nakedness, hunger, thirst, and fetters, so that the latter may be an example to the rest against sinning, and the former an incentive to earning favor, so that fear restrains some and honor spurs others: he therefore both loves and hates; and he who hates also loves; for there are those who ought to be loved, and there are those who ought to be hated. And just as he who loves bestows good things upon those he loves, so he who hates inflicts evils upon those he hates—which argument, because it is true, can by no means be dissolved.

Vain and false, therefore, is the opinion of those who, while attributing one thing to God, take away the other—no less so than that of those who take away both. But the latter, as we have shown, do not err in part, but retain that which is the better of the two. Those, however, whom the reasoning and truth of this argument leads, having adopted an altogether false opinion, fall into the greatest error. For they ought not to have argued thus: Because God is not wrathful, therefore He is not moved by grace either; but rather thus: Because God is moved by grace, therefore He is also wrathful. For if it had been certain and beyond doubt that God is not wrathful, then it would have been necessary to proceed to that other conclusion. But since the matter of wrath is more doubtful, while that of grace is almost manifest, it is absurd to wish to overturn what is certain by what is uncertain, when it is more straightforward to confirm uncertain things from certain ones.

These are the opinions of the philosophers concerning God. No one has said anything else beyond this. But if we find that what has been said is false, one final position remains, in which alone truth can be found—a position never adopted nor ever defended by the philosophers—namely, that it follows that God is wrathful, since He is moved by grace. This is the opinion we must defend and assert. For in this lies the whole sum and hinge of religion and piety. For no honor can be owed to God if He bestows nothing on one who worships Him, nor any fear, if He is not wrathful toward one who does not worship Him.

Although philosophers have often, through ignorance of the truth, departed from reason and fallen into inextricable errors (for what usually happens to them is what happens to a traveler who does not know the way and will not admit that he is ignorant of it—that he wanders, while he is ashamed to ask those he meets)—yet no philosopher has ever asserted that there is no difference between man and beast; nor has anyone at all, provided he wished to appear wise, equated a rational animal with the mute and irrational: which certain ignorant persons do, themselves resembling the very beasts, who, wishing to give themselves over to the belly and to pleasure, say that they were born by the same principle as all breathing things—a thing which it is impious for a man to say. For who is so unlearned as not to know, who so imprudent as not to perceive, that there is something divine in man?

I have not yet come to the virtues of the soul and of the mind, by which man has a manifest kinship with God. Does not the very posture of the body and the form of the face declare that we are not equal to the mute beasts? Their nature is prostrate toward the ground and their fodder; it has nothing in common with the sky, which they do not look upon. But man, upright in stance, with face raised on high, roused to the contemplation of the world, turns his gaze toward God; and reason recognizes reason.

Therefore, as Cicero says, there is no animal besides man that has any knowledge of God. For man alone is endowed with wisdom, so that he alone understands religion; and this is the chief, or indeed the sole, distinction between man and the mute animals. For the other things that seem to be proper to man, even if they are not the same in the mute animals, can nevertheless appear similar. Speech is proper to man: yet even in those animals there is a certain likeness of speech. For they recognize one another by their voices; and when they are angry, they emit a sound resembling a quarrel; and when they see one another from a distance, they declare the duty of greeting by their voice. To us their voices seem unformed, just as perhaps ours seem to them: but to themselves, who understand one another, they are words; and finally in every emotion they express certain fixed vocal signs by which they show the state of their mind.

Laughter too is proper to man; and yet we see in other animals certain signs of joy, when they frisk about in play, stroke their ears, draw back their lips, smooth their brow, and relax their eyes in playfulness. What is so proper to man as reason and foresight of the future? And yet there are animals that open up various and multiple exits from their lairs, so that if any danger should arise, a way of flight lies open to those besieged; which they would not do unless there were in them understanding and thought. Others provide for the future; as

When ants plunder a great heap of grain,
Mindful of winter, and store it under roof;

as the bees, which

Alone know their homeland and fixed abodes,
And mindful of coming winter, in summer they ply
Their labor, and store what they have gathered for the common store.

It would take long if I wished to set forth all the things that individual kinds of animals are accustomed to do that are most like human ingenuity. But if in all these things, which are usually attributed to man, a likeness is found even in the mute animals, it is apparent that religion alone is that of which no trace and no hint whatsoever can be found in the mute animals. For justice is the proper attribute of religion, which no other animal attains. For man alone commands; the rest are subject to him. Now the worship of God is ascribed to justice; and he who does not undertake it, being alien to the nature of man, will live the life of beasts under a human form.

But since we differ from other animals in almost this one thing alone—that we alone of all perceive the divine power and might, while in them there is no understanding of God—it certainly cannot be that in this matter the mute animals are wiser, or that human nature is foolish; since to man, on account of his wisdom, both all breathing things and the entire nature of things is subject. Wherefore if the reason and power of man excels and surpasses the other living creatures in this—that he alone grasps the knowledge of God—it is apparent that religion can by no means be dissolved.

But religion is dissolved if we believe Epicurus when he says:

For the nature of the gods must of itself
Enjoy immortal life in highest peace,
Far removed and sundered from our affairs.
For free from all pain, free from all dangers,
Powerful in its own resources, needing nothing of us,
It is neither won by merits nor touched by wrath.

When he says these things, does he think that any worship is to be rendered to God, or does he overturn all religion? For if God bestows no good upon anyone, if He returns no thanks for the devotion of one who worships Him, what is so vain, so foolish, as to build temples, offer sacrifices, present gifts, diminish one's estate, so that we obtain nothing? But, they say, an excellent nature ought to be honored. What honor can be owed to one who cares for nothing and is ungrateful? Can we be bound by any obligation to one who has nothing in common with us? "God," says Cicero, "if He is such that He is held by no gratitude, no love of men, farewell to Him. For why should I say, may He be propitious? For He can be propitious to no one." What more contemptuous thing could be said of God? Farewell to Him, he says; that is, let Him depart and withdraw, since He can benefit no one.

But if God neither has nor shows any concern, why then should we not transgress, whenever it shall be possible to deceive the conscience of men and to circumvent the public laws? Wherever an opportunity of hiding presents itself to us, let us consult our own interest, let us take what belongs to others, either without bloodshed or even with blood—if there is nothing beyond the laws that is to be revered. While Epicurus holds these views, he utterly destroys religion; and with religion removed, confusion and disorder of life will follow. But if religion cannot be removed—so that we may retain both wisdom, by which we differ from beasts, and justice, by which common life may be safer—how can religion itself be maintained or preserved without fear? For what is not feared is despised; what is despised is certainly not worshipped. Thus it comes about that religion, and majesty, and honor consist in fear; but fear does not exist where no one is wrathful.

Whether, therefore, you take away grace from God, or wrath, or both, religion must necessarily be destroyed—without which the life of man is filled with folly, crime, and savagery. For conscience greatly restrains men, if we believe that we live in the sight of God; if we think that not only what we do is seen from above, but also what we think or speak is heard by God. But, some think, it is useful to believe this—not for the sake of truth, but of utility; since the laws cannot punish conscience, unless some terror from above hangs over it to restrain sins. All religion is therefore false and there is no divinity. But all of it was invented by prudent men, so that life might be lived more rightly and innocently. This is a great question, and one foreign to the subject we have proposed: but because it necessarily arises, it must be touched upon, however briefly.

But afterwards Epicurus said that God indeed exists, because there must be something in the world that is surpassing, and excellent, and blessed; yet that there is no providence: and so that the world itself was furnished by no reason, no art, no craftsmanship, but that the nature of things was gathered together from certain minute and indivisible seeds. I do not see how anything more contradictory could be said. For if God exists, he is certainly provident, as God; nor can divinity be attributed to him in any other way, unless he both holds the past, knows the present, and foresees the future. Since, therefore, he took away providence, he also denied that God exists. But when he professed that God exists, he at the same time conceded that providence also exists. For the one without the other can neither exist at all, nor be understood.

But in those later times, when philosophy had already lost its bloom, there arose one Diagoras, surnamed Melius, who said there was no God at all, and on account of this opinion he was called ἄθεος; likewise Theodorus of Cyrene: both of them, because they could find nothing new, since everything had already been said and discovered, preferred to deny, even against the truth, that in which all their predecessors had agreed without ambiguity. These are the men who, through so many ages and so many intellects, have calumniated providence, which had been asserted and defended. What then? Shall we refute these petty and inert philosophers by reason, or by the authority of eminent men? Or rather by both? But we must press on, lest the discourse wander too far from the subject.

Those who are unwilling that the world was made by divine providence either say that it was compacted from first principles coming together at random, or that it arose suddenly from nature; and that nature (as Strato holds) has within itself a force of generating and diminishing: but that it has no sense and no form, so that we are to understand that all things were generated as if of their own accord, with no craftsman and no author. Both positions are vain and impossible. But this is what happens to those ignorant of the truth: they contrive anything whatsoever rather than think what reason demands. First, I ask where or whence those minute seeds are, by whose chance concourse they say the whole world was gathered together. Who ever saw them? Who perceived them? Who heard of them? Did Leucippus alone have eyes? Alone a mind? He who was assuredly, of all men, alone blind and senseless, to say things which no sick man could rave nor any sleeping man dream.

The ancient philosophers maintained that all things consist of four elements: he was unwilling to follow this, lest he seem to tread in another's footsteps. But he wished there to be other first principles of those very elements, which could neither be seen, nor touched, nor perceived by any part of the body. They are so minute, he says, that no edge of iron is so fine that they can be cut and divided by it, whence he gave them the name of atoms. But it occurred to him that if all had one and the same nature, they could not produce different things, with such variety as we see to exist in the world. He said, therefore, that they are smooth, and rough, and round, and angular, and hooked. How much better it would have been to be silent, than to have a tongue for uses so wretched and so empty: and indeed I fear that one who thinks these things need to be refuted may seem no less mad.

Yet let us reply, as to one saying something. If they are smooth and round, they certainly cannot seize upon one another so as to form any body; just as if someone wished to bind millet into a single mass, the very smoothness of the grains would not allow them to come together into a lump. If they are rough and angular and hooked, so that they can cohere; then they are divisible and cuttable: for the hooks and angles must project, so that they can be broken off.

And so what can be broken off and torn away will also be able to be seen and held. "These," he says, "fly about through the void with ceaseless motions, and are carried hither and thither, as we see specks of dust in the sun, when it has let in its rays and light through a window. From these, trees and herbs and all crops arise; from these, animals and water and fire and all things are generated, and again are resolved back into the same." This can be borne, so long as the discussion concerns small things. From these also the world itself was compacted. He has filled up the measure of perfect madness; nothing seems capable of being said beyond this: yet he found something to add. "Since the whole," he says, "is infinite, and nothing can be void; it is therefore necessary that there be innumerable worlds." What so great force was there in atoms, that masses so immeasurable were gathered together from things so minute?

And first I ask what is the reason or origin of these seeds. For if all things are from them, whence then shall we say that they themselves exist? What nature will supply so great an abundance for fashioning innumerable worlds? But let us grant that he may rave about worlds with impunity: let us speak of this one, in which we are, and which we see. He says that all things are made from indivisible corpuscles. If this were so, no thing would ever need a seed of its own kind. Birds would be born without eggs, and eggs without birth, and likewise the other living creatures without mating: trees and things that grow from the earth would not have their own seeds, which we handle and sow every day. Why does a crop grow from grain, and again grain from a crop?

Finally, if the union and aggregation of atoms produced all things, everything would solidify in the air; since atoms fly through the void: why, without earth, without roots, without moisture, without seed, can neither grass, nor tree, nor crops arise and grow? Hence it is apparent that nothing is made from atoms; since each thing has its own fixed nature, its own seed, its own law given from the beginning. Finally Lucretius, as if forgetting the atoms he was defending, in order to refute those who say that all things are made from nothing, used arguments that would tell against himself. For he said thus:

For if they came from nothing, every kind
Could be born from all things, and need no seed.

And likewise afterwards,

Nothing therefore from nothing can be made, we must confess,
Since a seed is needed for things, by which each, once created,
Can be brought forth into the tender breezes of the air.

Who would think that this man had a brain, when he said these things and did not see that they were contradictory to himself? For it is evident from this that nothing is made through atoms, because the seed of each thing is fixed; unless perhaps we shall believe that the nature of fire and water also is created from atoms. What of the fact that from materials of the hardest rigidity, if they are struck together with a more violent blow, fire is struck out? Do atoms lurk in iron or flint? Who enclosed them? Or why do they not flash out of their own accord? Or how could seeds of fire remain in the coldest material?

I pass over flint and iron. If you hold a glass sphere full of water in the sun, fire is kindled from the light that is reflected from the water, even in the hardest cold. Are we to believe that fire exists even in water? And yet fire cannot be kindled from the sun even in summer. If you breathe upon wax, or if a light vapor touches something, or a crust of marble, or a thin plate, water gradually condenses through the finest drops. Likewise from the breath of earth or sea, mist arises: which either, when dispersed, moistens whatever it has covered; or, when gathered and borne aloft on the wind to lofty mountains, is packed into a cloud, and pours down great rains. Where then do we say that the liquids were born? In vapor? In breath? In wind? And yet nothing can subsist in that which is neither touched nor seen.

Why should I speak of animals, in whose bodies we see nothing formed without reason, without order, without utility, without beauty; so much so that the most skillful and most careful arrangement of all parts and members repels the notion of chance and fortune. But let us suppose that limbs and bones and sinews and blood can be compacted from atoms. What of sense, thought, memory, mind, intelligence—by what seeds can these be cemented together? By the most minute ones, he says. There are therefore others that are larger. How then are they indivisible?

Then, if the things that are not seen are made from invisible ones, it follows that the things that are seen are made from visible ones; why then does no one see them? But whether one considers the invisible things that are in man, or the tangible things that come under sight, who does not see that both are constituted by reason? How then can things coming together without reason produce anything rational? For we see that there is nothing in all the world that does not have within itself the greatest and most wonderful reason. Which, because it is above the sense and understanding of man, to whom more rightly than to divine providence is it to be attributed? Does reason and art fashion a likeness and statue of a man; and shall we think that man himself is made from fragments coming together at random? And what resemblance to truth is there in the fashioned thing, when the highest and most excellent craftsmanship can imitate nothing but a shadow and the outermost outlines of the body?

Could human skill give to its work either any motion or any sense? I pass over the uses of seeing, hearing, smelling, and the wonderful utilities of the other members, both visible and hidden. What craftsman could fashion either the heart of a man, or his voice, or wisdom itself? Does anyone in his right mind therefore think that what man cannot do by reason and design could have been accomplished by the random cohesion of atoms clinging together here and there? You see into what ravings they have fallen, in their unwillingness to assign to God the making and care of things.

Yet let us grant them that the things which are earthly are made from atoms: are the heavenly things also? They say that the gods are incorruptible, eternal, blessed; and to them alone they grant immunity, lest they seem to have been compacted by the concourse of atoms. For if the gods too had been constituted from them, they would become liable to dissolution, the seeds being at some point resolved and returning to their own nature. Therefore if there is something which atoms did not produce, why do we not understand the rest in the same way? But I ask: before those first principles generated the world, why did the gods not build themselves a dwelling? Evidently unless the atoms had come together and made the sky, the gods would still be hanging in the midst of the void.

By what design then, by what reason, did the atoms gather themselves from the confused mass, so that from some the earth was compacted below, and the sky stretched out above, distinguished by such variety of stars that nothing more beautiful could ever be devised? Who then, seeing things so great and such as these, can think that they were produced by no design, no providence, no divine reason; but that such great marvels were compacted from subtle, tiny atoms? Is it not like a prodigy that a man was born who would say these things, or that one arose who would believe them?—such as Democritus, who was his hearer, or Epicurus, into whom all the vanity flowed from the fountain of Leucippus. But (as others say) the world was made by nature, which lacks sense and form. This indeed is far more absurd. If nature made the world, it must necessarily have made it by design and reason; for he makes something who either has the will to make it, or the knowledge.

If it lacks sense and form, how can there be made by it something that has both sense and form?—unless perhaps someone thinks that so subtle a structure of animals could have been formed and animated by something that has no sense; or that that appearance of the sky, so providently tempered for the uses of living beings, arose suddenly by some chance, without a founder, without a craftsman.

"If there is anything," says Chrysippus, "that produces those things which man, even though endowed with reason, cannot produce, that thing is assuredly greater, and stronger, and wiser than man." But man cannot make heavenly things; therefore that which will produce or has produced these surpasses man in art, design, prudence, and power. Who then can that be, unless God? But nature, which they regard as a kind of mother of things, if it has no mind, will never produce anything, will never set anything in motion. For where there is no thought, there is no motion and no efficacy. But if it employs design for beginning something, reason for arranging, art for producing, virtue for completing, power for governing and sustaining; why should it be called nature rather than God? Or if the concourse of atoms, or nature lacking mind, produced what we see, I ask why it could have made the sky but could not have made a city or a house; why it made mountains of marble but did not make columns and statues?

And yet the atoms ought also to have come together to produce these things; since they leave no arrangement untried. For as for nature, which has no mind, it is no wonder that it forgot to make these things. What then is the answer? Assuredly God, when he was beginning this work of the world—than which nothing can be more orderly in arrangement, more fitted for utility, more beautiful in adornment, or greater in mass—made those things himself which could not be made by man; among which he also made man himself, to whom he gave a portion of his own wisdom; and equipped him with reason, as much as earthly frailty could receive, so that man might himself produce for himself the things that were necessary for his uses.

But if in the republic (so to speak) of this world there is no providence to govern it, no God to administer it, and no sense at all prevails in this nature of things; from what source, then, will the human mind, so clever and so intelligent, be believed to have arisen? For if the body of man was fashioned from the earth, from which man received his name; then the soul, which thinks, which is the ruler of the body, to which the members yield obedience as to a king and commander, which can neither be seen nor grasped, could not have come to man except from a wise nature. But just as mind and soul govern every body, so also does God govern the world. For it is not plausible that lesser and lowly things should have governance, while greater and highest things should have none. Finally, M. Cicero in the Tusculans and in the Consolation says: "No origin of souls can be found on earth.

For there is nothing in souls that is mixed and compounded, or that seems to have been born and fashioned from earth; nothing moist, nor airy, nor fiery. For in these natures there is nothing that possesses the power of memory, of mind, of thought, which can both retain the past, foresee the future, and embrace the present—things which alone are divine.

Nor are they ever found whence they could come to man, except from God." Setting aside two or three vain detractors, then, since it is established that the world is governed by divine providence, just as it was also made by it, and since there is no one who would dare to prefer the opinion of Diagoras and Theodorus, or the empty invention of Leucippus, or the frivolity of Democritus and Epicurus, to the authority of those seven foremost men who were called wise, or of Pythagoras, or Socrates, or Plato, and the rest of the philosophers who judged that Providence exists; that opinion, therefore, is also false, by which they suppose that Religion was instituted by the wise for the sake of terror and fear, so that ignorant men might abstain from sins.

But if that were true, then we have been mocked by the ancient wise men. And if they invented Religion for the purpose of deceiving us, and indeed the whole human race, then they were not wise, because falsehood does not befit a wise man. But suppose they were wise; what such great felicity of lying could there be, that they would deceive not only the unlearned, but also Plato and Socrates, and so easily delude Pythagoras, Zeno, and Aristotle, the founders of the greatest schools? There is therefore divine providence, as those men whom I have named perceived; by whose force and power all things that we see have both been made and are governed. For so great a magnitude of things, so great an ordering, so great a constancy in preserving the sequences of times and seasons, could neither have arisen of old without a provident craftsman, nor have endured through so many ages without a powerful inhabitant, nor be governed forever without a skilled and sentient ruler: which reason itself declares.

For whatever has reason must necessarily have arisen from reason. But reason belongs to a sentient and wise nature: and a wise and sentient nature can be nothing other than God. Now the world, since it has reason by which it is both governed and held together, was therefore made by God. And if God is the founder and ruler of the world, then Religion has been rightly and truly established; for honour and veneration are owed to the author of all things and the common parent.

Since providence is established, it follows that we should teach whether it is to be believed to belong to many or rather to one. We have shown sufficiently, as I think, in our Institutes that there cannot be many gods; because if divine force and power is distributed among several, it must necessarily be diminished: but what is diminished is certainly also mortal; if however it is not mortal, it can neither be diminished nor divided. God therefore is one, in whom force and power are consummated, and can neither be diminished nor increased. But if there are many, while each individually possesses some portion of power and divinity, the sum itself decreases: nor will individuals be able to possess the whole, which is shared in common with several: each one will lack as much as the rest possess. There cannot therefore be many rulers in this world: nor many masters in one house, nor many helmsmen in one ship, nor many leaders in a herd or flock, nor many kings in one swarm.

But neither could there be many suns in the sky, just as there cannot be multiple souls in one body: so thoroughly does all of nature agree in unity. But if the world

A spirit nourishes within, and a mind infused through all the limbs
Stirs the whole mass, and mingles with the great body,

it appears by the testimony of the poet that God is the one inhabitant of the world; since every body can be inhabited and governed by none but a single mind. All divine power must therefore necessarily reside in one being, by whose nod and command all things are governed; and for this reason he is so great that he can neither be expressed in words by man, nor estimated by the senses. From what source, then, did the persuasion of many gods reach men? Doubtless all those who are worshipped as gods were men, and the same were the first and greatest kings: but who does not know that they were either honoured with divine honours after death on account of the virtue by which they had benefited the human race, or that they attained immortal memory on account of the benefits and discoveries by which they had cultivated human life? And not only males, but women also.

This is taught both by the most ancient writers of Greece, whom they call theologians, and also by the Romans, who followed and imitated the Greeks; among whom especially Euhemerus, and our own Ennius, who set forth the births, marriages, offspring, reigns, deeds, deaths, and tombs of all of them. And Tully, following them, in the third book of On the Nature of the Gods, dissolves the public religions: yet neither he himself nor anyone else was able to introduce the true religion, which he did not know. So much so that he himself testified that the false was apparent, yet the truth lay hidden. "Would that," he says, "I could as easily find the truth as I can refute the false!" This he proclaimed not dissemblingly, as an Academic, but truly and from the conviction of his heart: because truth can never be drawn out by human senses; what human foresight was able to attain, he attained—namely, to expose falsehoods. For whatever is fictitious and invented, because it rests on no rational foundation, is easily dissolved.

There is therefore one ruler and origin of all things, God, as Plato both perceived and taught in the Timaeus; whose majesty he declares to be so great that it can neither be comprehended by the mind nor expressed by the tongue. Hermes likewise testifies to this—he whom Cicero says is counted among the gods by the Egyptians—that same one who, on account of his virtue and knowledge of many arts, was named Trismegistus, and who was far more ancient not only than Plato but also than Pythagoras and those seven wise men. In Xenophon, Socrates in disputation says "that the form of God ought not to be sought out;" and Plato in the books of the Laws: "What God altogether is, is not to be inquired, because he can neither be found nor described." Pythagoras also confesses one God, saying that he is an incorporeal mind, which, diffused and stretched through all the nature of things, bestows vital sense upon all living beings.

Antisthenes moreover in his Physics said that there is one God by nature, although nations and cities have their own popular gods. Much the same is held by Aristotle with his Peripatetics, and Zeno with his Stoics. For it would be tedious to set forth the opinions of each individual, who, although they used different names, nevertheless converged upon a single power that governs the world. Yet although the supreme God is often acknowledged by both philosophers and poets and even by those who worship the gods, no one has ever inquired about his worship and honours, no one has ever discoursed upon them; evidently from that persuasion by which, always believing him to be beneficent and incorruptible, they judge that he is angry with no one and stands in need of no worship. So thoroughly can there be no religion where there is no fear.

Now since we have replied to the impious and detestable cleverness, or rather madness, of certain persons, let us return to our subject. We have said that, with religion removed, neither wisdom can be maintained nor justice; because wisdom is the understanding of divinity, by which we differ from beasts: justice is found in man alone, and unless God, who cannot be deceived, restrains our desires, we shall live wickedly and impiously. That our actions are observed by God pertains not only to the benefit of common life, but also to truth; because with religion and justice removed, we either sink into the foolishness of cattle with reason lost, or into the savagery of beasts: indeed even more so; since beasts spare animals of their own kind. What will be more ferocious than man, what more cruel, if, with the fear of a superior removed, he has been able either to evade or to despise the force of the laws?

The fear of God, therefore, is the sole guardian of human society among men, by which life itself is sustained, nourished, fortified, governed.

But that fear will be taken away if man is persuaded that God is without anger. That he is moved and indignant when unjust things are done, not only common utility but also reason itself and truth persuade us. We must return again to what was said above, so that, since we have shown that the world was made by God, we may show why it was made.

If anyone considers the entire administration of the world, he will surely understand how true is the opinion of the Stoics, who say that the world was constructed for our sake. For all the things of which the world consists, and which it produces from itself, are adapted to the use of man. Man uses fire for the purpose of warming and lighting, and of softening foods, and of forging iron: he uses springs for drinking and bathing; rivers for irrigating fields and marking out regions: he uses the earth for receiving the variety of crops; hills for planting vineyards; mountains for the use of trees and timber; plains for grain; he uses the sea not only for trade and for conveying supplies from distant regions, but also for the abundance of fish of every kind. And if he uses these elements, which are nearest to him, there is no doubt that he also uses the sky, since the services of heavenly things are also regulated for the fertility of the earth, from which we live.

The sun completes its annual circuits with unceasing courses and unequal intervals, and either rising brings forth the day for labour, or setting draws the night over for rest: and now by withdrawing further toward the south, now by drawing nearer toward the north, it produces the alternations of winter and summer, so that the earth may grow fat with winter moisture and frosts for fertility, and with summer heats either the grassy crops may be hardened by ripening, or those things that are in moist places may be softened by being cooked and warmed. The moon also, governess of the night season, regulates the monthly intervals by the alternations of lost and recovered light, and illuminates the dark nights, dreadful with darkness, with the brightness of her radiance; so that summer journeys, and expeditions, and tasks may be accomplished without toil and trouble. Indeed:

By night light stubble, by night dry meadows
Are better mown.

The other stars also, whether by their rising or their setting, supply the opportunities of the seasons at fixed stations. But they also provide guidance for ships, lest they wander with a wandering course through the immensity, when a helmsman duly observing them brings the vessel to the port of the intended shore. By the breath of the winds, clouds are drawn along, so that crops may be watered by rains, so that vines may abound with fruit, and orchards with apples. And these things are provided in turn throughout the world, lest there ever be lacking that by which the life of men is sustained. But indeed the same earth nourishes the other living creatures, and the dumb animals are also fed by her produce. Did God then labour also for the sake of the dumb animals? By no means, because they are devoid of reason.

But we understand that they too were made by God in the same way for the use of man, partly for food, partly for clothing, partly for assistance in labour; so that it is clear that divine providence wished to furnish and adorn the life of men with an abundance of things and supplies, and for this reason filled the air with birds, the sea with fish, and the earth with four-footed beasts. But the Academics, disputing against the Stoics, are accustomed to ask why, if God made all things for the sake of men, many things are also found that are contrary, hostile, and pestilential to us, both on sea and on land. This the Stoics repelled most ineptly, not looking to the truth. For they say that there are many things among growing things and in the number of animals whose usefulness is still hidden: but that it is discovered in the course of time; just as necessity and use have already discovered many things unknown to earlier ages.

What utility, pray, can be found in mice, in cockroaches, in serpents, which are troublesome and harmful to man? Or does some medicine lie hidden in them? If it does, it will be found some day—against evils, of course, since those men complain that this is altogether an evil. They say that the viper, burned and dissolved into ash, heals the bite of that same beast. How much better it would have been for it not to exist at all, than for a remedy against itself to be sought from that very creature.

They could therefore have answered more briefly and more truly in this manner. When God had formed man as a kind of image of himself, which was the highest work of divine craftsmanship, he breathed into him alone wisdom, so that he might subject all things to his rule and dominion and make use of all the benefits of the world. Yet he set before him both good and evil; because he gave him wisdom, whose entire purpose lies in distinguishing between evils and goods. For no one can choose the better things and know what is good, unless he knows at the same time how to reject and avoid what is evil. The two are bound to each other in turn, so that if one is removed, it is necessary that both be removed. With goods and evils thus set before him, wisdom then at last performs its work; and indeed it seeks the good for benefit, and rejects the evil for safety.

Therefore, just as innumerable good things were given to man, which he might enjoy, so also were evils, which he might beware.

For if there were no evil, no danger, nothing at all that could harm man, all material for wisdom is removed, and wisdom will not be necessary for man. For if only good things were placed before his sight, what need is there for thought, understanding, knowledge, reason? Since wherever he stretches out his hand, that thing is suited and fitted to his nature: as if someone wished to set before infants, who do not yet have understanding, a most lavishly prepared feast, each one would reach for whatever impulse, or hunger, or even chance drew him toward, and whatever they took would be wholesome and healthful for them. What harm then would it do for them to remain as they are and always be infants and ignorant of things? But if you mix in things that are bitter, or useless, or even poisonous, unless wisdom comes to them, by which they may have the rejection of evils and the choice of goods.

You see therefore that we have need of wisdom more on account of evils: which if they had not been set before us, we would not be rational animals. But if this reasoning is true, which the Stoics were in no way able to see, that famous argument of Epicurus is also dissolved. God, he says, either wishes to remove evils and cannot; or he can and does not wish to; or he neither wishes nor can; or he both wishes and can. If he wishes and cannot, he is weak; which does not befit God. If he can and does not wish, he is envious; which is equally foreign to God. If he neither wishes nor can, he is both envious and weak; and therefore not God. If he wishes and can, which alone befits God, whence then are evils? Or why does he not remove them?

I know that most philosophers who defend providence are accustomed to be troubled by this argument and are almost unwillingly driven to confess that God cares for nothing, which is precisely what Epicurus seeks. But we, with the reasoning made clear, easily dissolve this fearsome argument. For God can do whatever he wills, and there is no weakness or envy in God; he can therefore remove evils: but he does not wish to; and yet he is not therefore envious. For the reason he does not remove them is that he bestowed wisdom at the same time (as I have shown), and there is more good and pleasantness in wisdom than there is trouble in evils. For wisdom brings it about that we also come to know God, and through that knowledge attain immortality; which is the highest good. And so unless we first come to know evil, we will not be able to know good either.

But this Epicurus did not see, nor did anyone else; that if evils are removed, wisdom is equally removed, and no trace of virtue remains in man, whose purpose consists in enduring and overcoming the bitterness of evils. And so for the sake of the small gain of evils removed, we would be deprived of the greatest and true and proper good that belongs to us. It is therefore established that all things were set before man, both evils as well as goods.

It follows that I should show why God made man himself. Just as he fashioned the world for man's sake, so he made man for his own sake, as the priest of a divine temple, the beholder of his works and of heavenly things. For man alone, being sentient and capable of reason, is able to understand God, to admire his works, to perceive his power and might; for this reason he was furnished with counsel, mind, and prudence. For this reason alone among other living creatures he was made with an upright body and posture, so that he might appear to have been roused to the contemplation of his parent. For this reason alone he received speech, and a tongue as the interpreter of thought, so that he might be able to declare the majesty of his Lord. Finally, for this reason all things were subjected to him, so that he himself might be subject to God, the maker and craftsman.

If therefore God wished man to be his worshipper, and for that reason attributed to him so great an honor that he should be lord of all things; it is surely most just both that he should love the one who has bestowed such great things, and that man, who is joined with us in the fellowship of divine right, should be loved. For it is not lawful that a worshipper of God be violated by a worshipper of God. Hence it is understood that man was formed for the sake of religion and justice.

Witness to this is Marcus Tullius in his books On the Laws, speaking thus: "But of all the things that are treated in the discussions of learned men, nothing is surely more excellent than that it be plainly understood that we were born for justice." If this is most true, then God wishes all men to be just, that is, to hold God and man dear: namely, to honor God as a father, and to love man as a brother; for in these two things all justice consists. Whoever therefore either does not acknowledge God, or harms man, lives unjustly and contrary to his own nature, and in this way breaks the ordinance and law of God.

But Epicurus confronts us and says: "If there is in God an affection of joy toward favor, and of hatred toward anger, he must also have fear, and lust, and desire, and the other affections which belong to human weakness." It is not necessary that one who is angry should fear, or that one who rejoices should grieve: indeed, the irascible are less timid; and those cheerful by nature grieve less. What need is there to speak of human affections, to which our frailty succumbs? Let us consider the divine necessity; for I do not wish to say nature, because our God is never believed to have been born. The affection of fear has its material in man, but has none in God. Man, because he is subject to many accidents and dangers, fears lest some greater force arise that may strike, despoil, tear, afflict, or destroy him. But God, upon whom neither want, nor injury, nor pain, nor death falls, can in no way fear; because there is nothing that can bring force to bear upon him.

Likewise the reason and cause of lust is manifest in man. For because he was made frail and mortal, it was necessary that the other and different sex be constituted, through whose union offspring might be produced to continue the perpetuation of the race. But this lust has no place in God; because both frailty and destruction are foreign to him, and there is no woman with him whose union he could enjoy, nor does he who will always exist have need of succession. The same things can be said of envy and desire; which fall upon man for certain and manifest reasons, but in no way upon God. But indeed, both favor, and anger, and compassion have their material in God; and that supreme and singular power rightly makes use of them for the preservation of things.

Someone will ask, what is this material? First, men afflicted by accidental evils very often take refuge in God, appease him, beseech him, believing that he is able to drive away injuries from them. He has therefore cause for showing compassion; for he is not so harsh and contemptuous of men as to deny help to those who labor. Likewise very many, who are persuaded that justice is pleasing to God, and who venerate him as the lord and parent of all, and with constant prayers and frequent vows offer gifts and sacrifices, attend his name with praises, laboring to win his favor by just and good works. There is therefore reason why God both can and ought to show favor. For if nothing is so fitting to God as beneficence, and nothing so foreign as that he should be ungrateful: it is necessary that he bestow something upon the services of the best and those living holily, and render a return, lest he incur the fault of ingratitude, which is blameworthy even in man.

On the other hand there are others who are wicked and impious, who defile all things with their lusts, harass households, defraud, plunder, perjure themselves; and spare neither kinsmen nor parents; and disregard the laws and God himself.

Anger therefore has its material in God. For it is not lawful that he, when he sees such things being done, should not be moved, and rise up to the punishment of the wicked, and destroy the pestilential and harmful, so as to provide for all good men: so much so that even in anger itself there is favor. The arguments are therefore found to be empty and false, whether of those who, while not wishing God to be angry, wish him to show favor, because not even this can happen without anger; or of those who think there is no movement of mind in God at all. And because there are some affections which do not fall upon God, such as lust, fear, avarice, grief, envy, they said he is entirely free from every affection.

For from these he is free, because they are affections of vices: but those which belong to virtue, that is, anger toward the wicked, love toward the good, compassion toward the afflicted, since they are worthy of divine power, he has as his own, and just, and true. Which if he did not have, human life would be thrown into confusion; and the condition of things would come to such great disorder that, with laws despised and overcome, audacity alone would reign, so that no one at last could be safe except one who prevailed by strength. And so the whole earth would be laid waste as if by a common brigandage. But now, because both the wicked hope for punishment, and the good for favor, and the afflicted for aid; there is room for virtues, and crimes are rarer. Yet indeed the wicked are often more prosperous, and the good more wretched, and the just are harassed with impunity by the unjust. We shall consider afterward why these things happen.

Meanwhile let us explain concerning anger, whether there is any in God; or whether he cares for nothing at all, and is not moved by those things which are done impiously.

God, says Epicurus, cares for nothing; he therefore has no power. For it is necessary that he who has power should care; or if he has it and does not use it, what so great a cause is there that not only, I will not say our race, but even the world itself should be of no account to him? For this reason, he says, he is incorrupt and blessed, because he is always at rest. To whom then has the administration of such great things passed, if these things which we see governed by the highest reason are neglected by God? Or how can one who lives and perceives be at rest? For rest is either a matter of sleep or of death. But not even sleep has rest.

For when we are in deep sleep, the body indeed rests, but the mind is stirred in restless activity: it fashions images for itself to behold, so that it may exercise its natural motion through the variety of visions; and it calls itself away from false things while the limbs are refreshed and take vigor from rest. Everlasting rest therefore belongs to death alone. But if death does not touch God, then God is never at rest. But what can the activity of God be, except the administration of the world? If indeed he takes care of the world, then God takes care of the life of men, and observes the acts of individuals, and desires them to be wise and good. This is the will of God, this is the divine law; whoever follows it, whoever observes it, is dear to God. It is therefore necessary that he be moved to anger against one who has either violated or scorned this eternal and divine law. If God harms someone, he says, then he is no longer good.

Those who consider censure, whether human or divine, as a mark of harshness and malice are deceived by no small error, thinking that one who inflicts punishment on the harmful ought to be called harmful. But if this is so, then we have harmful laws, which have ordained punishments for those who sin; harmful judges, who afflict those convicted of crime with capital punishment. But if the law is just, which gives to the guilty what he deserves, and the judge is called upright and good when he avenges evil deeds (for he who punishes the wicked guards the safety of the good), then God also, when he harms the wicked, is not harmful; but he himself is harmful who either harms the innocent, or spares the guilty, so as to harm the greater number.

It is worth asking of those who make God immovable: if someone has property, a household, and servants, and those servants, scorning the patience of their master, have seized everything, enjoy his goods themselves, his own household honors them, while the master is despised by all, mocked, and abandoned—can he be considered wise if he does not avenge the insults, and allows those over whom he has power to enjoy his possessions freely? What great patience of this kind can be found in anyone?—if indeed it is to be called patience, and not a kind of insensible stupor. But it is easy to bear contempt. What if those things happen which Cicero speaks of?

"For I ask, if a paterfamilias, after his children have been killed by a slave, his wife slain, and his house burned, had not exacted the most severe punishment from the slave—would he seem to be merciful and compassionate, or inhuman and most cruel?" But if to pardon crimes of this sort belongs rather to cruelty than to piety, then it is not a virtue in God to be unmoved by things done unjustly. For the world is like the house of God, and men are like servants: if His name is made a mockery by them, what kind or how great a patience is it to yield His honors, to see wicked and unjust things done, and not to be indignant—which is the proper and natural response of one to whom sins are displeasing? To be angry, therefore, belongs to reason; for by it offenses are removed and license is restrained, which is certainly done justly and wisely.

But the Stoics did not see that there is a distinction between right and wrong; that there is just anger and unjust anger: and because they could not find a remedy for the matter, they wished to cut it out entirely. The Peripatetics, however, said it should not be cut out but tempered: to whom we have replied sufficiently in the sixth book of the Institutes. That the philosophers did not know what the reason for anger was is apparent from their definitions, which Seneca enumerated in the books he composed On Anger. "Anger," he says, "is the desire to avenge an injury. Others," as Posidonius says, "define it as the desire to punish one by whom you think you have been unjustly harmed." Some have defined it thus: "Anger is an impulse of the mind to harm one who has harmed, or wished to harm." The definition of Aristotle is not far from ours. For he says anger is the desire to repay pain.

This is the anger of which we spoke above—the unjust kind—which is found even in dumb animals: in man, however, it must be restrained, lest it leap out into some great evil through frenzy. This cannot exist in God, because He cannot be harmed; but in man, because he is frail, it is found. For injury inflicts pain, and pain produces the desire for vengeance. Where then is that just anger against wrongdoers? Which is certainly not a desire for vengeance, because no injury precedes it. I do not speak of those who sin against the laws, against whom a judge may be angry without fault—yet let us suppose that he ought to be of calm mind when he subjects the guilty to punishment, because he is a minister of the laws, not of his own feeling or power; for so they wish who strive to uproot anger.

But I speak chiefly of those who are under our authority, such as slaves, children, wives, and pupils: when we see them go wrong, we are moved to correct them. For it is necessary that what is wicked should displease a good and just man; and one to whom evil is displeasing must be moved when he sees it done. Therefore we rise to punishment; not because we have been harmed, but so that discipline may be maintained, morals corrected, and license suppressed. This is just anger, which as it is necessary in man for the correction of wickedness, so likewise in God, from whom the example passes to man. For just as we ought to correct those subject to our authority, so also God ought to correct the sins of all. That He may do this, it is necessary that He be angry; because it is natural for a good being to be moved and stirred at another's sin.

Therefore they ought to have defined it thus: Anger is the movement of the mind rising up to restrain sins. For the definition of Cicero, "Anger is the desire for vengeance," does not differ much from the earlier ones. But that anger which we may call frenzy or irascibility ought not to exist even in man, because it is wholly vicious. But the anger which pertains to the correction of vices ought neither to be taken from man, nor can it be taken from God, because it is both useful to human affairs and necessary.

What need is there of anger, they say, since sins can be corrected without this passion? And yet there is no one who can look calmly upon a sinner: perhaps one who presides over the laws can, because the crime is not committed before his eyes but is reported from elsewhere as a matter of doubt, and a crime can never be so manifest that there is no room for a defense; and therefore a judge can be unmoved against one who may be found innocent. And when the detected crime has come to light, he now uses not his own judgment but that of the laws. It may be granted that he does what he does without anger, for he has something to follow. We certainly, when a wrong is done at home by those of our household, whether we see it or perceive it, must needs be indignant; for the very sight of the sin is unworthy.

For one who is not moved at all either approves the offenses—which is more base and unjust—or avoids the trouble of chastising, which a calm and quiet mind disdains and refuses, unless anger has stimulated and roused it. But one who, though moved, yet through untimely leniency pardons either more often than is necessary or even always, plainly both ruins the lives of those whose boldness he fosters toward greater crimes, and furnishes himself an eternal source of troubles. Vicious, therefore, is the restraint of one's anger in the face of sins.

Archytas of Tarentum is praised, who, when he had discovered that everything on his farm had been ruined, rebuking the fault of his steward, said: "Wretch that you are, I would have beaten you to death by now, had I not been angry." This they regard as a unique example of self-restraint: but led by his authority they do not see how ineptly both his words and his deeds were. For if (as Plato says) no wise man punishes because a sin has been committed, but so that sin may not be committed, it is plain what a bad example the wise man set. For if the slaves perceive that their master is harsh when he is not angry, and sparing when he is angry, they will not sin lightly, lest they be beaten; but as gravely as they can, so as to rouse his irritation and depart unpunished.

I would indeed have praised him if, when he had been angry, he had given his anger time, so that with the swelling of his mind subsiding over an interval of time, the chastisement might have had measure. The punishment, therefore, ought not to have been remitted on account of the greatness of his anger, but deferred, lest it inflict greater pain than is just upon the one punished, or frenzy upon the one chastising. But as things stand, what equity or what wisdom is it that someone should be punished for a small offense and not punished for a great one? Had he learned the nature of things and their causes, he would never have professed so unseasonable a self-restraint that a worthless slave would rejoice that his master had been angry with him.

For just as God equipped the human body with many and various senses necessary for the use of life, so also He assigned various passions to the mind, by which the conduct of life might be maintained—as He gave desire for the sake of producing offspring, so He gave anger for the sake of restraining offenses. But those who do not know the ends of good and evil, just as they use desire for corruption and pleasures, so they use anger and passion to do harm, being angry at those whom they hate. Therefore they are angry even at those who have not sinned, even at equals or even at superiors. Hence every day men rush into monstrous crimes; hence tragedies often arise. Archytas would therefore have been praiseworthy if, when he had been angry at some fellow citizen and equal who had done him an injury, he had nevertheless restrained himself and by patience had calmed the onset of his frenzy. This self-restraint is glorious, by which some imminent great evil is checked.

But not to correct the sins of slaves and children is itself a sin; for through impunity they will advance to greater evil. Here anger must not be restrained, but even, if it lies dormant, must be roused. And what we say of man, we say also of God, who made man like Himself. I omit speaking of the form of God, because the Stoics deny that God has any form; and a vast other subject will arise if we wish to refute them: I speak only of the mind. If it belongs to God to think, to be wise, to understand, to foresee, to excel, and of all animals man alone has these things; then man was made in the likeness of God: but he therefore falls into vice because, being mingled with earthly frailty, he cannot keep uncorrupted and pure that which he has received from God, unless he be imbued by that same God with the precepts of justice.

But since man is composed, as we have said, of two things, mind and body, in the one are contained virtues, in the other vices, and they war against each other. For the goods of the mind, which consist in restraining desires, are contrary to the body; and the goods of the body, which consist in every kind of pleasure, are hostile to the mind. But if the virtue of the mind shall have resisted desires and suppressed them, it will be truly like God. Hence it appears that the soul of man, which is capable of divine virtue, is not mortal. But the distinction is this: since virtue has bitterness, and the allurement of pleasure is sweet, the majority are overcome and drawn away toward sweetness. Those who have given themselves over to the body and to earthly things are pressed down to the earth, and cannot attain the grace of the divine gift, because they have defiled themselves with the stains of vices.

But those who, following God and obeying Him, have despised the desires of the body, and preferring virtue to pleasures have preserved innocence and justice—these God acknowledges as like Himself.

Since, therefore, He has laid down a most holy law, and wills all to be innocent and beneficent, can He not be angry when He sees His law despised, virtue cast aside, pleasure sought? But if He is the administrator of the world, as He must be, He certainly does not disregard that which is the greatest thing in all the world. If He is provident, as befits God, He certainly takes thought for the human race, that our life may be more abundant, better, and safer. If He is the father and God of all, He certainly takes delight in the virtues of men and is moved by their vices; therefore He both loves the just and hates the impious. There is no need of hatred, someone says; for He has once established reward for the good and punishment for the evil.

But if someone lives justly and blamelessly, and yet neither worships nor regards God at all—like Aristides, and Timon, and the rest of the philosophers—will it go unpunished for him that, though he has obeyed the law of God, he has yet despised God Himself? There is therefore something for which God can be angry, as it were at one who rebels against Him in the confidence of his own integrity. If He can be angry at this man on account of his pride, why not more so at the sinner who has despised the law together with its very author? A judge cannot grant pardon for sins, because he serves the will of another. But God can, because He is Himself the interpreter and judge of His own law: when He laid it down, He certainly did not thereby take away all power from Himself, but retains the freedom to pardon.

If He can pardon, then He can also be angry. Why then, someone will ask, do those who sin often prosper, and those who live piously often suffer? Because runaways and the disowned live freely, while those who are under the discipline of a father or master live more strictly and frugally. For virtue is both proved and sustained through hardships; vices through pleasure. Yet he who sins ought not to hope for perpetual impunity, because there is no perpetual happiness:

But surely the last day must always
Be awaited by man; and no one ought to be called happy
Before his death and final obsequies.

as the not unpleasing poet says. The end is what proves happiness; and no one can escape the judgment of God, neither the living nor the dead. For he has the power both to cast down the living from the heights, and to afflict the dead with eternal torments. But, one says, if God is angry, he ought to have avenged immediately, and punished each one according to his desert. Yet if he did that, no one would survive. For there is no one who sins in nothing; and many things provoke men to sin: age, drunkenness, poverty, opportunity, reward. So subject to sin is the frailty of the flesh with which we are clothed, that unless God spared this necessity, perhaps far too few would live: for this reason he is most patient, and restrains his anger. For because virtue is perfect in him, his patience too must needs be perfect, which is itself also a virtue. How many sinners have afterwards been made righteous, the evil made good, the wicked made continent!

How many who were base in their early years and condemned in the judgment of all, nevertheless afterwards proved praiseworthy! This would certainly not happen if punishment followed every sin. The public laws condemn those who are manifestly guilty: but very many are those whose sins are hidden; very many who suppress the informer either by entreaties or by reward; very many who evade judgments through favor or power. But if divine censure were to condemn all those who escape human punishment, man would be either rare or even nonexistent on earth. Finally, even that one cause alone could have been sufficient for destroying the human race, that men, despising the living God, render divine honor to earthly and fragile images as though to heavenly beings, worshipping works fashioned by human fingers. And whereas God the maker had formed them with uplifted face and upright posture, roused to the contemplation of heaven and the knowledge of God, they preferred to bend themselves to the earth after the manner of cattle.

For he is lowly and bent and prone who, turned away from the sight of heaven and God the Father, venerates earthly things which he ought to have trodden underfoot, that is, things molded and formed from earth. In so great an impiety of men and so great sins, therefore, the patience of God achieves this: that men themselves correct themselves by condemning the errors of their former life. And indeed many are good and just, and having cast aside earthly cults, they acknowledge the majesty of the one God. But although the patience of God is very great and most beneficial, yet, however late, he punishes the guilty, and does not suffer them to proceed further, when he has perceived them to be incorrigible.

There remains one final question. For perhaps someone may say that God is so far from being angry that he even forbids man to be angry in his commandments. I could say that the anger of man had to be restrained, because he is often angry unjustly; and his movement is immediate, because he is temporal. And so lest those things be done which the humble, the middling, and great kings do through anger, his fury had to be tempered and suppressed, lest, bereft of reason, he commit some inexpiable crime. But God is not angry in the present moment, because he is eternal and of perfect virtue; and he is never angry except with just cause. Yet the matter does not stand thus. For if he were to forbid anger altogether, he would himself in a manner have been a critic of his own workmanship, who from the beginning had placed anger in the liver of man: since it is believed that the cause of this emotion is contained in the humor of the bile.

He does not therefore forbid anger altogether, because that affection was given of necessity: but he forbids remaining in anger. For the anger of mortals ought to be mortal; for if it persists, enmities are confirmed to everlasting destruction. Then again, when he commanded to be angry indeed, but yet not to sin, he did not utterly uproot anger, but tempered it: so that in every chastisement we should maintain measure and justice. He therefore who bids us be angry is himself certainly angry; he who commands us to be appeased more quickly is himself certainly placable; for he commanded those things which are just and useful for the common good.

But because I had said that the anger of God is not temporal, as that of man who grows hot with immediate emotion and cannot easily govern himself on account of his frailty; we ought to understand that, since God is eternal, his anger too remains unto eternity: but again, since he is endowed with the greatest virtue, he holds his anger in his power; and is not ruled by it, but himself moderates it as he wills: which is certainly not at odds with what was said above. For if his anger were utterly immortal, there would be no place for satisfaction or grace after a transgression; since he himself commands men to be reconciled before the setting of the sun. But divine anger remains unto eternity against those who sin unto eternity. And so God is not appeased by incense, nor by a victim, nor by costly gifts, all of which are corruptible, but by the amendment of conduct; and he who ceases to sin makes the anger of God mortal.

For this reason he does not punish each guilty person in the present moment, so that man may have the opportunity of repenting and correcting himself.

These are the things I had to say concerning the anger of God, dearest Donatus; so that you might know how to refute those who make God immovable. It remains that we use an epilogue after the manner of Cicero for our peroration. As he did in the Tusculans when discoursing on death: so we in this work ought to bring forward divine testimonies by which credence may be given, so that by their persuasion we may confute those who, believing God to be without anger, dissolve all religion: without which, as we have shown, we are equaled either in savagery to beasts, or in stupidity to cattle; for in religion alone, that is, in the knowledge of the most high God, is wisdom. All the prophets, filled with the divine Spirit, speak of nothing else than the grace of God toward the just, and his anger against the impious.

Their testimonies are indeed sufficient for us: but since those who boast of wisdom by their hair and dress do not believe them, they had to be refuted by us also with reason and arguments. For the matter is handled preposterously in that they attribute authority to divine things from human things, when rather human things ought to derive authority from divine. Let us now pass over these things lest we accomplish nothing with them, and the subject matter proceed to infinity. Let us therefore seek those testimonies which they can either believe or at least not resist.

Very many and very great authors have handed down accounts of the Sibyls; among the Greeks, Aristo of Chios and Apollodorus of Erythrae; among our own, Varro and Fenestella. All of these record that the Erythraean Sibyl was the foremost and most renowned above the rest. Apollodorus indeed boasts of her as of a fellow citizen and compatriot. Fenestella moreover reports that envoys were even sent by the senate to Erythrae, so that the verses of this Sibyl might be brought to Rome, and that the consuls Curio and Octavius might arrange for them to be placed in the Capitol, which had then been restored under the care of Quintus Catulus. In her writings, verses of the following kind are found concerning the most high God and creator of all things:

Incorruptible creator, eternal, dwelling in the ether,
Bringing to the good a good reward, far greater;
But against the evil and unjust stirring up wrath and anger.

Again in another place, enumerating the crimes by which God is most provoked, she added these words:

Flee lawless acts of worship, serve the living God.
Beware of adultery, and the indiscriminate bed of a male,
Rear your own offspring of children, and do not commit murder;
For the immortal one will be wrathful against whoever sins.

He is therefore indignant against sinners.

But because, as I have shown, several Sibyls have been handed down by most learned authors, the testimony of one may not be sufficient to confirm the truth as we intend. The volumes of the Cumaean Sibyl indeed, in which the fates of the Romans are written, are kept in secret: yet the books of nearly all the rest are not forbidden from being in common use; from among which, one, announcing to all nations the anger of God on account of the impiety of men, began in this manner:

As great wrath comes upon the disobedient world,
I declare the messages of God for the last age,
Having prophesied to all men throughout every city.

Another also said that through the indignation of God against the unjust, the flood was brought about in the former age, so that the wickedness of the human race might be extinguished.

From the time when the heavenly God was wrathful
Against the very cities and all mankind,
The sea covered the earth when the flood burst forth.

In like manner she prophesied that a conflagration would come afterwards, by which the impiety of men would again be destroyed.

And one day God, no longer appeasing his wrath,
But weighing heavily and destroying the race
Of men, consuming all by fire.

Whence in Naso it is said thus concerning Jupiter: He recalls too that it is in the fates that a time will come When sea, when land, and the seized realm of heaven Shall burn, and the labored mass of the world shall struggle.

This must needs come to pass when the honor and worship of the most high God shall have perished among men. Yet the same Sibyl, attesting that he is appeased by repentance for deeds done and by self-amendment, added these words:

But now, mortals, change through mercy, and do not provoke
The great God to anger of every kind.

Likewise a little after:

He will not destroy, but will again stay his wrath, whenever
You all practice precious piety in your hearts.

Then another Sibyl declares that the begetter of heavenly and earthly things must be loved, lest his indignation rise up to destroy men:

Lest the immortal God in his wrath utterly destroy
The whole race of men, their life and their shameless tribe,
One must love God the begetter, ever wise and eternal.

From these things it is apparent that the reasonings of the philosophers are vain, who think God to be without anger; and who place among his other praises that which is most useless, taking away from him that which is most salutary for human affairs, through which his very majesty is upheld. This earthly kingdom and dominion, unless fear guards it, is dissolved. Take away anger from a king, and not only will no one obey him, but he will even be cast down from his eminence. Nay indeed, take this affection away from any humble person, who will not despoil him? Who will not mock him? Who will not inflict injury upon him? Thus he will be able to have neither clothing, nor a dwelling, nor food, while others plunder whatever he has; much less should we think that the majesty of the heavenly empire can subsist without anger and fear. Apollo of Miletus, when consulted concerning the religion of the Jews, gave this response:

Even God the king and begetter before all things,
Whom earth trembles at, and heaven, and the sea,
And the depths of Tartarus, and before whom demons shudder.

If he is as gentle as the philosophers would have it, how is it that at his nod not only demons and ministers of so great a power, but even heaven and earth and all of nature trembles? For if no one serves another except under compulsion, then all dominion consists in fear: but fear comes through anger: for if one is not moved against him who refuses to obey, neither will he be able to be compelled to compliance. Let each person consult his own affections: he will then understand that no one can be subjected to authority without anger and chastisement. Where therefore there is no anger, there will be no authority either. But God has authority; therefore he must also have anger, by which authority is upheld. Wherefore let no one, led by the empty talk of philosophers, school himself to contempt of God; which is the greatest impiety.

We all ought both to love him, because he is a father; and to revere him, because he is a lord; and to honor him, because he is beneficent; and to fear him, because he is severe: each character in him is worthy of veneration. Who with sound piety would not love the parent of his soul? Or who would with impunity despise him who, as ruler of all things, holds true and eternal power over all? If you consider him as a father, he provides us with our entry into the light which we enjoy: through him we live, through him we entered into the lodging of this world.

If you think of him as God, he nourishes us with innumerable resources, he sustains us, we dwell in his house, we are his household; and even if less obedient than was fitting, and less dutiful than the immortal merits of our lord and parent demanded: yet it profits very much toward obtaining pardon, if we hold fast to his worship and knowledge; if, having cast aside things both lowly and earthly, whether things or goods, we meditate upon heavenly and divine and eternal things. That we may be able to do this, God must be followed, God must be adored and loved; since in him is the substance of things, and the principle of virtues, and the source of good things.

For what is greater than God in power, or more perfect in reason, or more resplendent in brightness? Since he begot us for wisdom and brought us forth for justice; it is not lawful for man, having forsaken God the giver of sense and life, to serve earthly and fragile things, or, clinging to the pursuit of temporal goods, to fall away from innocence and piety. Vicious and deadly pleasures do not make one blessed, nor does wealth the inciter of lusts, nor empty ambition, nor fleeting honors, by which the human soul, ensnared and enslaved to the body, is condemned to eternal death: but innocence alone, justice alone, whose lawful and worthy reward is immortality, which God established from the beginning for holy and incorrupt minds that preserve themselves whole and inviolate from vices and from all earthly defilement. Those who have polluted their conscience with crimes, frauds, plunderings, and deceits, and who have branded upon themselves indelible stains through injuries to men and wicked deeds, cannot be partakers of this heavenly and everlasting reward.

Therefore all who wish to be rightly called wise, who wish to be rightly called men, must despise fragile things, trample upon earthly things, look down upon lowly things, so that they may be joined to God in most blessed union.

Let impiety be put away; let turbulent and pestilential discords and dissensions be stilled, by which human societies and the divine bond of public fellowship are broken, torn apart, and scattered: let us strive as much as we can to be good and beneficent; if we have any wealth, if any abundance of resources, let it be distributed not for the pleasure of one, but for the welfare of many. For pleasure is as mortal as the body to which it renders its service. But justice and beneficence are as immortal as the mind and soul, which by good works attains the likeness of God. Let God be consecrated for us not in temples, but in our own heart. All things made by hand are destructible. Let us cleanse this temple, which is defiled not by smoke, not by dust, but by evil thoughts; which is illuminated not by burning candles, but by the brightness and light of wisdom.

In which, if we shall always believe God to be present, whose divinity the secrets of the mind lie open to, we shall so live that we may always have him propitious, and may never fear him angry.